Why the Bat In My Room Made Me Think of Food.

A few weeks ago I was on vacation with my family. We go to the same small lake town every year and spend a week swimming, reading, lounging, and generally pretending we don’t have real responsibilities back home. It’s fantastic. Usually. This year something happened that sent my heart into my throat and I am still freaked out and icked out over it.

Let me share. I might feel better afterwards.

So, it gets very, very hot up in the mountains in July and the cabins we stay in invariably do not have air conditioning. My son, who was not feeling well on the night in question, had gone to bed early and we left the side door open to try to get some fresh air in the otherwise stuffy room. Please note, this door opened to the woods, but was inaccessible unless you were already in our kitchen. I was not concerned about intruders of any sort. Had I but known…

So  late that night, and I am talking 2am late, my husband and I were up with our son who was, sadly, not feeling any better. My husband was holding our son and I had just returned from getting a glass of water from the kitchen (by way of the side door I previously mentioned.) In a very calm voice that usually sets off my “What’s wrong” radar even if he doesn’t proceed to talk about rodents, my husband said, “Now, don’t freak out, but I think there’s a bat in here.” With that he directed his gaze to the softball-sized black thing that was flopping around at the foot of my bed near the bathroom door. I don’t know how I didn’t scream bloody murder, but somehow, somehow, I managed to keep quiet and not wake up the 5 other people in the house. I’m sure it looked like one of those silent screams in movies where people are so upset that they open their mouths but no sound comes out. That was me – holding my breath with my mouth open and an “Oh my God” look on my face.

I leapt onto the  bed, grabbed my sick son, pointed to the desperately creepy thing on the floor and said, “Get rid of it. NOW. Throw that towel over it and get it out of here.” My husband, swell guy that he is, obliged my request without hesitation and managed to get the bat outside and away from us. There was no chance on earth I was going to be using that staircase again so there went my easy access to the kitchen, but the bat was gone and that was all I cared about.

The funny thing was that after it was over I couldn’t stop thinking about Bat Soup. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m insane and what the hell is Bat Soup. Well you might be right about the first part, at least to some degree, and the second, well, I don’t know how to make it or anything, but I know it’s a real thing because my dad ate it at a party thrown by our next door neighbors. Anyway, I couldn’t stop thinking about Bat Soup and how bizarre it was to find a bat in our room and how long had it been in there and where had it been hiding and what if you were eating a bowl of delicious soup and then found out it was made from bats. What would you do? Would you keep eating or would you delicately put the bowl down and decline further consumption? What if it tasted really good? Would your head get the better of your stomach?

Ever eaten anything really strange? Not Frog Legs strange, but something really, really out there. Bat Soup strange. Tell me. I’m interested.

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